


Ever After: From Rags to Paintings

by Juliette24



Category: Ever After (1998)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Some Prince Henry salt to spice it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29191986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliette24/pseuds/Juliette24
Summary: Danielle and Gustave have been friends, and nothing more, for their whole lives. Then the Prince of France comes along to turn Danielle’s head, promising her the love she’s always wanted, only to abandon her in her time of need. Gustave is determined to still help her escape her stepfamily’s clutches, one way or another.A friends to lovers retelling where Danielle gets the wonderful leading man she (and we) deserve.
Relationships: Danielle de Barbarac/Gustave (Ever After), Danielle de Barbarac/Prince Henry (Ever After)
Kudos: 4





	Ever After: From Rags to Paintings

**Author's Note:**

> During a casual rewatch of Ever After, my friend asked me to write an AU fic where Danielle runs away with Gustave instead of Prince Henry after he unceremoniously dumps her at the ball. Being a sucker for a friends to lovers story, I obliged.

Gustave was pouting. Danielle could feel it. After smuggling her into his master’s art studio, he stood at the window, muttering and keeping watch on her family in the market while she glossed her hands over the pale green gown. It belonged to a prim courtier who had recently modeled for a portrait, freshly completed and awaiting its gilded frame from a plain wooden easel. Gustave had been fretting since she first stepped into the studio, like a hen who had had one too many feathers plucked. The thought reminded Danielle of the time, when they were kids, that she popped out of the chicken coop to scare him; he threw a bag of feed a hundred feet in the air and tripped into the water trough. Good times.

At last, as Danielle was pulling at her sleeves, Gustave couldn’t seem to take it anymore and spoke up clearly.

“Have you lost your marbles?” he demanded.

His footsteps rounded the corner as she was shrugging off her outer garment, but since it was Gustave, she wasn’t embarrassed. Indeed, he didn’t miss a beat as the dark green fabric slid down to her elbows as he popped out from behind the wall and continued his tirade.

“Do you know what the punishment is for servants who dress above their station?” Gustave held up his hand. “Five days in the stocks.”

Gustave could whine all he liked, but Danielle knew the truth: he had a heart of iron under that flimsy oversized shirt.

Danielle poked him in the chest as she said, “You’d do the same for me, admit it.”

As soon as he looked down, she snapped her finger up and flicked his nose as he gaped at her. Over fifteen years, and he still fell for the same tricks. She smirked as she turned away from him.

“Me?” he said. “Pretend to be a courtier? Prancing around like some nobleman?”

With her outer garment still hanging from her elbows (she had enough modesty to not completely undress in front of him), she stooped over to a chair to grab her shoes before running behind the folding screen and letting her skirt fall altogether.

“Why, I’ve never ever been to court,” continued Gustave. “And neither have you.”

Danielle popped her head out from behind the screen and pointed out, very logically, “Then I won’t be recognized.” She pointed to the dress, which she really should have grabbed instead of the shoes. “Now, hand me that gown so I can be on my way.”

“They’ll never buy it!” insisted Gustave. “You are too sweet.”

His voice softened on the compliment, which raised a questionable warmth in her cheeks. She shook her head to clear it, as she lifted her hands to catch the bundled gown that Gustave tossed to her.

“They’ll never buy a servant with 20 gold francs either,” she said. “I am Maurice’s only hope.”

“And the baroness? What did you tell her?”

“I am picking wildflowers. Gustave, can you still see her?”

“They’re buying a brooch.”

Danielle scoffed. “Unbelievable. She ignores the manor, blames us for her debt, and still pretends to have money to burn.”

After a few false starts, she pulled on the gown, which felt heavier and more prickly than it looked; it made wearing such finery all the more foreign. She hoped she didn’t look like a chicken in satin. 

“And don’t you dare laugh,” she said, biting her lip. “I’m coming out.”

If she knew Gustave, he’d make a crack about how she looked like a girl. Unfortunately there were no mud pits nearby to teach him a lesson, but she could settle for paint. She took a breath and stepped out.

* * *

When his best friend emerged, Gustave’s first thought was that Danielle was the one who deserved a portrait, not the self-absorbed, beady-eyed Baroness Maria de Romanet who had modeled the dress with the graceful liveliness of a board. He couldn’t stop grinning at Danielle. Her smile, for the first time he’d known her, turned shy.

“The shoes are too big,” she said, almost apologetically.

Gustave wanted to laugh, but she’d get the wrong idea if he did. Instead he replied simply, “Nobody will be looking at your feet.”

He stirred the pigments in the bowl in his hands with a bit more force than necessary as his eyes once again boggled at how lovely she looked—how her blue eyes glowed and how the sweet bashfulness plucked at her pink lips.

“Yards of fabric and I still feel naked,” she said.

The smile dropped from Gustave’s face. He’d already had to work very hard to keep his vision at her eye level when she was undressing in the middle of the room before, but so help him if she talked about being naked in a gown like that. His boyish impulse to make a jab about her unladylike sensibilities was squelched when he saw the distress on her face. He put down the paint bowl with a clunk and walked toward her.

“If you’re going to be a noblewoman,” he said, taking her hand in both of his, “you must play the part.”

Without taking her eyes off her shoes, she nodded and released a tense breath, like a student who’d been told they had to pass the next exam or they were a disgrace to the institution. 

He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her face to meet his eyes. “You look down to no one.”

Did she understand that he meant it? That it was true now, as she played the part of a courtier, and it was true always, as the spirited, sparkfire woman who was more intelligent than all of France? In moments, her uncertain and close-lipped smile broke open into a more genuine, if still gentle, grin.

“I am just a servant in a nice dress,” she whispered.

He was supposed to be the awkward and insecure one in their friendship. Her behavior would not do.

“Come,” he said, giving her hand a firm shake and then grabbing the other. “We have to do something with that hair.”

As the sickly only child of a woman who’d wanted daughters, Gustave knew a thing or two about updoing hair to pass the hours. Unfortunately, Danielle’s step-uglies were going to finish haggling at the market soon, so he did not have time for anything fancy. He settled for the pearl-beaded gold hair net that Baroness Maria de Romanet had chosen at the last minute not to wear for her portrait. After double checking it was dry, he sat Danielle down on a stool with her back facing him.

“Your little braids are adorable, Danielle, but you’ll have to undo them,” he said.

When she turned to look at him, her face was flushed. She must have thought he was being condescending, which made him feel bad.

“Let me help you,” he said.

He turned her head to face the front again and unpinned where her two braids met in the middle, but then her fumbling fingers clasped over his.

“I can do it,” she said urgently.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling his hands away until she finished unbraiding.

Ignoring the softness of her hair, he made quick work to produce a presentable updo wrapped with the gilded hair net and with a large braid crown circling around it.

“Voila!” he cried, brandishing a glass for her to look into.

Gasping, she tilted her head back and forth for as good a look as she could get between the blots of smudged paint and fingerprints. He tucked several stray hairs behind her ears.

“You’d better go now,” said Gustave.

Danielle took an extra moment to giggle and admire her hair, before she whirled on him with exuberance singing in her eyes again.

“Thank you, Gustave!” she gushed.

Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. His nerves bolted to attention. She had kissed him like that before, but that was when they were prepubescent children and he thought girls were gross. When Danielle stepped back, she seemed to realize her mistake.

“I - well, I must go!” she exclaimed.

She picked up her skirts so that her ankles were scandalously visible as she fled the scene, and he couldn’t hold back the warning, “Put your skirt down, woman!”

What was he going to do with her?

* * *

Danielle didn’t bring up their moment in the studio after that day. Gustave felt relieved but also slighted, because the reason was that she had met the prince of France less than half an hour after. She could call him “insufferable” all she liked, but Gustave knew better. He was happy for her. Honest. From what she told him, her backtalk was what appealed to the prince in the first place, which spoke well for his character. Few men survived Danielle’s sting. Plus, if anyone deserved the ostentatiously pampered life of a queen, it was Danielle.

Then, of course, everything fell apart. He had been out of touch with Danielle for a few days, maximum, because of his apprenticeship (and absolutely not because he was tired of hearing about the prince’s eyes, charm, or luscious hair). Then Maurice accosted him in the market to tell him that: 1) Danielle and the prince were in love (duh); 2) the baroness found out about it (gulp); and 3) she had whipped Danielle for insolent behavior and locked her in the pantry so she couldn’t go to the ball (GAH). Gustave wanted to go straight to Danielle, but Maurice roughly told him that was not his mission. He had to tell the prince.

The prince! The poor sap who would think that Danielle stood him up and would then marry a Spanish princess brat instead, while Danielle suffered under stepfamily’s thumb forever. Gustave knew somebody had to tell the prince, but him?

“B-b-but I am nobody!” cried Gustave. “The prince would never see me.”

“You are her friend, Gustave,” replied Maurice.

_“You’d do the same for me, admit it.”_ Danielle had always credited him with more bravery than he deserved—why did these words have to haunt Gustave now?

“She needs your help,” continued Maurice. “The prince expects to see her.”

“I-I cannot,” stuttered Gustave. “Besides, my master has me working tonight.”

“Then go to da Vinci. Surely a painter can see another painter.”

“I am but an apprentice, and he is the greatest painter in the world. I could no sooner talk to God!”

Maurice grabbed Gustave by the shoulders and shook him. “For once in your life man, be bold!”

Then Maurice was gone, beckoned by the baroness saying “Did that lout stop to buy an ale?” in a voice loud enough for the whole market to hear. 

Left alone to gnaw on his thoughts (and his knuckles), Gustave wrestled with Maurice’s words. Gustave was always the initiate, not the initiator. He let people cut in line in front of him at the market, he wrote notes to his master more often than he spoke to him in person, and he spent most of his hours alone painting landscapes. Danielle, on the other hand, was bold. She was the one to talk first when they met, to tell him how dirty his face was, and as children she had spearheaded their romps and games and imaginary adventures around the manor (her, the knight, and him, the damsel in distress).

Now she needed Gustave’s help. They weren’t children playing pretend, they were in a true crisis, where Danielle’s future happiness hinged on the socially inept Gustave getting over himself and being bold.

“For Danielle,” he muttered.

That was his mantra. When he dropped a pot on a palace guard’s head and absconded with the clothes. When he approached da Vinci in the flesh (only to faint and wake up to realize he’d walked up to the wrong man). When he led da Vinci’s carriage to the manor, heart thumping from his own fear and hope for what would happen. 

Thankfully, they made it in good time. da Vinci made quick work of the door locking Danielle inside and refuted her doubts about whether the prince would want to see her (of course he would, what fool wouldn’t?).

“A bird may love a fish, signore, but where would they live?” she asked.

“Then I shall have to make you wings,” da Vinci replied.

With that, da Vinci enlisted Paulette to find wire and fabric. While Louise took Danielle to another room to put on her dowry dress, within minutes, da Vinci constructed glittering fairy-like wings that belonged in a fable. Gustave had heard the man was as eccentric as he was brilliant.

“Psst, Gustave!”

Gustave turned to see Danielle peeking from around the corner. He could see the beaded neckline of her dress.

“Will you do my hair again?” she asked.

Grinning, Gustave cracked his knuckles.

* * *

Danielle was beautiful. Gustave was not a poet, so he couldn’t say it with much flourish, but if he had a paintbrush in his hand, he felt he could do her more justice. Everything about her sparkled, from her bejeweled shoes to her gown to her porcelain face. If the prince didn’t fall at her feet and kiss her glass slippers as soon as he saw her, he did not appreciate fine art. As Gustave helped Danielle climb into the carriage, she squeezed his shoulder and thanked him with tears in her eyes.

“Get your man,” said Gustave.

Danielle giggled.

It was the last time he saw her happy that night.

* * *

Gustave borrowed a horse from the manor to return da Vinci (whom he refused to call Leonardo, despite the master painter’s insistence) to the ball. He couldn’t expect a man so well along in years to walk all the way back to the castle. Not long after they parted, however, Gustave saw a lone figure dressed in white, hobbling like an injured bird as they rushed away from the castle. Gustave squinted. Did he see a crushed wing falling from the person’s shoulder?

“Danielle?” he croaked.

As he pressed the horse toward her, rain began to fall, but even through his blurred vision, he recognized Danielle. She didn’t seem to hear him calling her name. Not until he was almost on top of her. As she spun about to face him, he saw her braid crown had unraveled, her skirt was muddied and torn, and her eyes bled with a devastation that Gustave had not seen in her since her father died. He had to do something.

* * *

How had Gustave found her? How much had he seen at the ball? Had the others also witnessed Danielle’s humiliation? She opened her mouth several times to explain herself, but Gustave apparently didn’t need an explanation as he slipped off the horse and positioned himself to give her a leg up. Danielle sniffed and wiped her eyes, useless as it was in the downpour. His eyebrows twitched as she planted her shoeless foot on his interlocked fingers, but his expression remained calm and reassuring as he hefted her up. Then he climbed onto the horse behind her and snapped the reins. How warm and solid he felt behind her back—a small but meaningful comfort as she sobbed during the ride home.

Once Danielle had recovered her breath and they neared the manor, Gustave asked, “Do you want to go inside?”

It may have seemed a ridiculous question, with him shouting in her ear to be heard above the rain that was drenching them both. But she knew what he was asking. Did she want to face Maurice, Louise, and Paulette right now? Danielle shook her head. So Gustave jerked the reins and took them to his home.

With her eyes soaked in more ways than one, she couldn’t see more than shadows and the blurred orange light from the fire that Gustave lit. After drying her hair the best he could, he put her on a stool by the fire and swaddled her in wool blankets. Then he gently pulled out her bare foot, which was scratched and bloodied from when she was running through rock and briar before he picked her up. Gustave winced as he cleaned and bandaged her foot, but it stung no worse than the whiplashes. Did Gustave know about those too?

“You’re awfully quiet,” said Danielle, surprised at how wry she sounded, like this was an average, carefree day with Gustave.

Gustave blinked, seeming to feel the same surprise.

“I wanted to wait to talk until you were ready,” said Gustave.

Danielle shut her eyes. She wanted to unload the heaviness in her heart, but her hurt was so raw she could barely get the words out.

“H-he shunned me, Gustave,” said Danielle, swallowing another sob. “As soon as he found out who I really am, he hated me.”

“Bastard!” Gustave growled, clenching his fist and hitting his knee. “I should ride back to the castle and—”

“What?” said Danielle. “Fight him to the death?”

Gustave huffed. “Honestly, if I thought I had any chance of winning, I would go.”

Danielle began to laugh, but then it devolved into another sob, and Gustave pulled her into his arms as another wave of grief consumed her. She was getting a headache from so much crying. Gustave dried her eyes with the end of her blanket.

“I’m such a fool,” said Danielle.

“No, no, do not even start,” said Gustave. “The only reason you dressed up as a courtier in the first place was to save Maurice. The prince was the one who pursued you. He was the one who pretended to be someone he wasn’t—a charming, good-hearted man who appreciated you for who you are. Tonight he showed his true, rotten self. I know you feel like it’s the other way around, like you should be the one ashamed, but as your friend, trust me when I tell you: you are wonderful.”

Danielle bit her lip and nodded. She tried to process what Gustave said, but he was right. Her shame was overpowering everything. She would keep his words in her memory for later, when she was ready to listen to them.

“I don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow morning,” she said. “How will I face my stepmother?”

Gustave leaned forward and flicked his gaze over her shoulder, as if he wanted to inspect her back. So he did know about the whipping.

“I don’t think you should go back,” said Gustave.

“What?”

“The baroness has already proven that she is willing to physically harm you,” said Gustave. “If she sees you back at the manor, knowing you defied her to see the prince, she will take revenge on you in even worse ways.”

Danielle hadn’t thought of that. She assumed she would go back to—if not exactly normal life, something like it was before the prince. Enslaved to her stepfamily’s whims and doing hard labor around the manor, until she figured out what to do next. But maybe that life wasn’t enough for her anymore. Maybe it wasn’t enough for Rodmilla de Ghent either.

“What should I do then?” asked Danielle.

“ _We_ are going to leave,” replied Gustave.

Danielle blinked. Gustave did not.

“If you’re ready, we can go back to the manor and pack your things,” said Gustave. “Then we are taking the horse and fleeing this awful country so the baroness can’t find you. Perhaps England. Or Scotland.”

“Wait, Gustave, I can’t ask you to do this,” said Danielle.

“You didn’t, but I’m doing it,” said Gustave. “Can’t very well send you off on your own. Well, I could, but that would make me a terrible friend.”

“What about your apprenticeship?”

“I’m sure that finished when I skipped my duties tonight.” Gustave flapped his hand when Danielle gasped in sympathy. “I can paint anywhere, Danielle. What matters is you.”

“Oh.” 

Danielle couldn’t come up with words for this man. Gustave stood up and offered his hand.

“What do you say?” said Gustave. “Let’s make our escape.”

Their goodbyes to Maurice, Louise, and Paulette were emotional, but they agreed with Gustave that the best thing for Danielle was to flee the baroness’ clutches. Any moment said baroness would return home, so Gustave and Danielle packed quickly and gave teary kisses to the others before hopping onto the horse. As was tradition, they waved at the gate before they turned the corner.

-ONE YEAR LATER-

Danielle poked her finger for the third time with her needle. Hissing, she stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked on it, scanning her handiwork: a new cap for Gustave. He’d worn the same cap every day since the night they fled France, but now it was as useful as a ripped handkerchief on his head. Danielle insisted that he buy a new one, but his frightful frugality and general lack of concern for his appearance always shut her down. But he’d been gone for the last three days and thus couldn’t stop Danielle from making a new one.

Remembering how long he’d been absent made her stomach rumble with nerves again. Six months ago, they were hired as farm hands for an English farm and were living in a simple but sturdy hut near the sheep and goats. Gustave, seeing that they were finally settled and the harvest was in, announced he would take up painting again and left to acquire supplies. Even if he was looking for the rarest materials, Danielle couldn’t understand why he was gone for this long. Did she need to search for him?

Danielle heard distant clattering and assumed it was the shepherd boy coming to invite her to dinner with the others. She wasn’t in the mood tonight. When they first moved to the farm, everyone assumed she and Gustave were married, and they felt too awkward to correct them. Now Danielle and Gustave had to smile through the other farm hands’ teasing about the young lovebirds. With Gustave gone, and the worry attached to that fact, it was too much for Danielle to deal with tonight.

She opened the door with her politely declining smile, only she saw not the button-nosed, freckled Benjamin, but her Gustave. He looked cheerful but exhausted, hauling a cart of burlap sacks and several bags slung around his shoulders. 

“Greetings, my lady!” exclaimed Gustave.

His lopsided snaggletooth smile made her heart leap. Danielle proceeded to maul him, swinging her arms around his neck and smothering him with kisses in his hair and on his ears, his cheeks, and his chin. She felt fuzz there, like he hadn’t shaved in the three days since he departed.

“Come in and get warm,” said Danielle.

“Wait, I have to get these inside,” said Gustave.

He turned and slung several more sacks on his shoulders with the ease of a man intimately familiar with hard labor. Not one to stand idle, Danielle picked up the rest and shooed him inside. She had no clue painting supplies could be so heavy. Gustave stamped his boots and kicked them off by the doorway before sitting by the fire to dig through the sacks.

“Eager to paint already?” teased Danielle, taking a stool beside him.

Gustave chuckled. “Not looking for a paintbrush.”

She noticed that a beard dusted his face, and she thought it made him look distinguished in a charming, funny grownup way. Maybe she’d tell him not to shave it.

“Aha!” cried Gustave.

He held a book in his hand, though his fingers blocked the title on the cover.

“This is what took me so long, but it was worth it,” said Gustave.

As Gustave reverently placed the book in her hands, Danielle gasped. _Utopia._

“Where?” she said. “How?”

“I wasn’t just looking for paints,” said Gustave. “I wanted to fill out your library again! I found a lot of your favorites, but I refused to come back until I found this little beauty.”

She caressed the wrinkled pages in her hands.

“You… you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”

He laughed nervously. “You do remember what that stiff-necked prince looked like, don’t you? N-not that I’m implying that—I didn’t mean—”

“Gustave.” 

How had she not seen it all these years? Even before the prince, there was something between them, something she never acknowledged to herself because of how unworthy she felt. Yet here he was, proving how much he cherished her. High time she returned the favor. Grinning, Danielle lifted her stool from under her and scooted close enough to bump their elbows together. 

Then she leaned in and whispered, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Wh-what? Are you sure?”

Danielle tugged on the drawstrings of his shirt and did as she promised. Despite the muffled squawk from the back of his throat, his lips soon molded to hers, velvety and warm and sweet all at once. When his fingers wove into her hair and cradled her neck, Danielle melted from the tenderness as they plunged deeper into the kiss. Then Gustave pulled back.

“How old were we when we first met?” he demanded.

Danielle squinted. “Seven. Why are you asking that?”

“I wanted to ask you something to prove you’re not a dream. That this isn’t all happening inside my head.”

Snickering, Danielle replied: “Wouldn’t your head know how old we were when we met? That would mean Dream Danielle would know the answer.”

“...Right.”

Danielle clapped her hands on his cheeks and rubbed her nose against his. “This is Real Danielle speaking. What just happened is real.”

“In... in that case... I’ll be bold.” Gustave pulled her hands from his face and squeezed them. “Danielle de Barbarac, will you marry me?”

-TWO MORE YEARS LATER-

Paulette was getting too old for this job. Her muscles ached like she had run to Spain and back. Her forehead felt hotter and slicker than animal fat sizzling on a pan. Her knuckles, chapped and bleeding from the washing, turned white as she pushed the wheelbarrow of potatoes. The wheelbarrow caught on a rocky patch, so Paulette took the chance to lean over to drip sweat and bone weary exhaustion. Then she heard a cooing sound.

Paulette perked up to see that, instead of a pigeon, a baby no older than two was hobbling toward her. The baby had tawny hair and a mischievous smile that reminded her so much of Danielle at that age that Paulette’s heart clenched as she stepped toward the little one.

“Where are your parents, darling?” she asked.

“Over here!” chirruped two voices.

When Paulette turned around, she clapped her hand to her heart.

“Have mercy!” she cried. “Are you real?”

Danielle looked like she had grown six inches. And she was holding hands with a lanky young man that Paulette didn’t recognize as Gustave until anxiety jolted in his face and he cried, “Evie, don’t climb there!”

Paulette cocked her eyes toward the baby, who was trying to pull up on the edge of the wheelbarrow to look at the potatoes. By the time Gustave and Danielle rushed over, Paulette had plucked Evie from the ground and spun her around.

“Aren’t you a spitting image of your mother?” said Paulette.

“Thank heaven,” said Gustave.

Danielle clicked her tongue and poked Gustave’s side. In only a few years, her features had refined into an exquisite but sharp-eyed woman who forged her own way through the world, one bare knuckle at a time. How Paulette had missed her.

“So…” Paulette looked at Evie, then at Gustave, who had taken Danielle’s hand again. “How did this happen?”

As Gustave took on the color of a radish, Danielle said: “We have much to catch up on. Including: since when did the manor look this well kept?”

Paulette guffawed. “We _do_ have much to catch up on.”

“Where are Maurice and Louise?” asked Danielle.

“Ah.” Paulette’s eyes dimmed. “Louise is inside cleaning the kitchen. But Maurice died of a fever last winter.”

Danielle gasped. Gustave dropped his head, working his jaw.

“We were gone for too long,” said Danielle.

“No, Danielle,” said Paulette. “He died firmly believing in your happiness. It’s all any of us wanted for you. I tell you, he was the first one to suspect Gustave had feelings for you, Danielle, but neither of us believed him. How he’d be laughing at us now.”

Gustave chuckled. “I wish I could thank him. He once told me to be bold for Danielle, and I’ve been living by that ever since.”

“You never told me that,” said Danielle.

“Well, let’s not stop and talk in this heat!” cried Paulette. “I’ll fix you lunch while you say hello to Louise.”

Louise wept for a full fifteen minutes after Danielle, Gustave, and Evie walked through the doorway. Only when Gustave prodded Evie to take his handkerchief and offer it to her with a chubby red hand did Louise laugh and sit at ease again—with the baby on her lap, of course. Several people that Danielle didn’t recognize were helping Paulette in the kitchen. When Danielle and her family first arrived, these new workers bowed and curtsied before Paulette shoved them aside and pressed a finger to her lips. Danielle wasn’t sure what to make of that, but Paulette and Louise insisted on hearing her and Gustave’s adventures abroad first. Gustave was the more theatrical storyteller, flourishing his hands and pulling off impressive impersonations of folks from the English farm that they had left. Paulette and Louise were doubling over from laughter. However, Danielle’s favorite part was recounting their first kiss and watching Gustave internally explode from self-consciousness.

“With that beard, he looks like a real grown man!” teased Paulette. “I didn’t recognize you when I first saw you, with your hair pushed back like that, too. No wonder you fell for him, Danielle.”

“He does look more handsome like this, doesn’t he?” said Danielle.

She grazed her fingers on his cheek so tenderly that he knew she wasn’t making fun, but Gustave still glared at her as embarrassment roasted his skin to a crisp.

“So, are you finally going to tell me where all these new people came from?” asked Danielle, dropping her hand to weave her fingers through his. “And where is the baroness?”

Louise and Paulette glanced at each other.

“Whew, well, first I should ask if you heard the prince didn’t marry the Spanish princess?” said Paulette.

Danielle nodded. “We heard he married someone else later.”

“Yes, a French courtier, but before that, he…” Paulette looked at Louise.

“What?” said Danielle.

“He came here looking for you,” answered Louise.

Danielle blinked, aware of Gustave stiffening beside her, and instinctively squeezed his hand.

“We told him how you left to escape the baroness,” continued Paulette. “He was furious, but he forbade us from saying a word. The next day, he called her with Marguerite to the court. They thought he was going to ask for Marguerite’s hand, but instead the king condemned them for lying to the queen and banished them to the Americas.”

Danielle’s jaw dropped, and she turned to an equally awe-stricken Gustave to confirm she hadn’t heard wrong.

“Wait!” cried Danielle. “What about Jacqueline?”

“She helped the prince to set up Rodmilla and Marguerite,” said Paulette with greedy giddiness. “She’s doing very well for herself. Married Captain Laurent of the prince’s royal guard.”

“I should write to her,” said Danielle.

“So then what happened to the manor?” asked Gustave, with an anxious undercurrent that only Danielle detected. “How is everyone working here?”

“Also the prince,” said Louise. “He learned how important the manor was to you, and to your father, so he paid for the upkeep in the event you should return. And here you are!”

Gustave heaved a breath, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He glanced at Danielle. Her face was serious as she processed the news.

“Hmph,” she murmured. “I suppose he’s not as heartless as I thought.”

She leaned her back against the wall and gazed at something that stretched far beyond the corner of the room. Then she clicked her tongue and stood up.

“Still, let’s hope he’s treating that poor woman with more grace than he did with me,” said Danielle. “Now, show us the rest of the house! I notice a lot of my father’s things have miraculously reappeared. Where in the world had they gone?”

“Ugh!” said Paulette. “That is a story I do not enjoy telling. The sneaky little snake sold them to Pierre Le Pieu!”

Danielle gasped and pressed Paulette for more details, but she seemed more reluctant to give them for some reason. Meanwhile, Gustave had fallen quiet ever since the revelation about the prince, but he tried to hide it by playing hide and seek with Evie around the house. Danielle couldn’t find a good time to talk to him alone until after supper that night, when Evie had fallen asleep and they were alone in the master bedroom. He was sitting with his back to her, taking far longer to unlace his boots than he needed to. As she sat next to him, he ducked his head deeper as he pretended to mutter about a difficult knot.

“I know what you’re worried about,” said Danielle.

That made him pop his head up. “Pfft, what? W-worried about what?”

She touched his hand. “You’re worried that if I had known that the prince would come looking for me, I wouldn’t have gone to England with you. That I wouldn’t have chosen you.”

Gustave’s shoulders slumped. Danielle took hold of his scruffy chin and turned him to face her.

“Even if I could go back to that time, I would change nothing,” she said. “I don’t care about what if’s. I care about what is. You are the love of my life.”

“Danielle, you can’t tell me that hearing the truth about the prince didn’t affect you,” Gustave replied.

Humming, she let go of his chin and regarded him.

“I won’t lie to you and say I didn’t love him, because I did,” she said. “But he was a boy who didn’t know what he wanted. You, however, are the one man in my life who has never left my side. You were here long before the prince, and you’ll be here long after. And if after all this you still don’t believe me, I’ll just have to take you outside and teach you a lesson like the old days.”

At last, Gustave burst out laughing, and Danielle tickled his side to egg him on. When he recovered, he shook his head and pointed at her.

“No take backs,” said Gustave.

Danielle looked down and pressed a hand to her belly. “I think we are far past take backs.”

As Gustave turned red, Danielle laughed again and pinched his cheek. He pouted.

“I don’t see why this still embarrasses you so,” said Danielle. “It’s already the second time.”

“You started it both times so far,” Gustave replied hotly.

“Just remember, I want at least five children.”

Gustave buried his face in his hands. “Can we focus on surviving the first two for now?”

Giggling, Danielle tugged on his earlobe and whispered, “I love you, Gustave.”

Gustave, unable to resist, cupped her face and kissed her hard. “I love you too, Danielle.”

* * *

As soon as the messenger boy ran off with her note to Jacqueline, Danielle knew it was only a matter of time until he would come. Dusklight was trimming the horizon when she heard the clip clop of horses coming around the bend, to the same plot of ground where she had thrown an apple to his forehead all those years ago. She dusted her hands on her skirt.

The prince was at the forefront, high and majestic on the tallest steed, yet dripping with adolescent awkwardness as he made an unintelligible signal to the guards behind him. One of them, Danielle realized, was Captain Laurent. He waved to her as pulled his horse back and the prince slipped off his horse. Danielle maintained her gaze on him, with her chin tilted up, as she remembered Gustave’s encouragement to her so long ago: _“You look down to no one.”_

The prince stopped several meters from her like he’d stumbled against a wall. He swallowed.

“I... heard you married,” he said.

“I heard that you did as well, Your Highness,” she replied, not giving him an inch.

“Yes. She’s a reader, actually. I think you would like her.”

Danielle raised her eyebrows but said nothing. 

Huffing, the prince shoved his hand through his excessively thick hair and said, “I’ve been practicing what I would say to you for so long, and here I am, making a fool of myself.”

“It’s your turn,” replied Danielle.

He winced. “That’s why I’ve come. To beg your forgiveness. I offered you the world, and at the first test of honor, I betrayed your trust. I realize it changes nothing and that it will never make up for the pain I’ve caused you, but I wanted you to know how sorry I am.”

Danielle gestured to the field around them. “Is that why you kept up the manor? In hopes I’d come back and forgive you?”

“I did it because it was the least I could do after treating you so terribly,” said the prince.

“I don’t know what I expected when I brought my family back, but it wasn’t this,” said Danielle. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“You can say my name, you know.”

Danielle frowned. “I think it would be better if I didn’t. Your Highness.”

“Right.” The prince squinted in the last bit of sunlight shining in his eyes. “In any case, please let me know if you and your family need anything. Really.”

“I appreciate that,” said Danielle.

He looked so painfully awkward in the silence that hung between them, Danielle had to swallow a laugh. She would have to remember his expression when she relayed this to Gustave later.

“Please know, I don’t hold any ill will towards you,” said Danielle. “To be frank, I don’t think I would have fit well into the royal life. Etiquette was never my strong suit, as you might remember.”

He smiled. “I admired that about you. Your passion for books, for people, for justice—it changed my life. You were the inspiration behind the library we’re building.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” he cried. “My wife is looking forward to its completed construction. She wasn’t allowed to pursue much of an education growing up.”

“Goodness, that’s tragic,” said Danielle. “By the way, I heard she’s from the court, but I never caught her name.”

A delightfully undignified giggle rose out of him. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

“Why? What is it?”

He tried to calm his expression, but another laugh was tugging his lips as he answered, “Nicole.”

Danielle clapped a hand over her mouth. “You must be joking.”

“Nicole de Aubret!” insisted the prince.

“My, aren’t you consistent?” teased Danielle.

“Yes. Well.”

By now the sun had fully set, and Danielle had to see to dinner with her family. It was a miracle no one had come out to fetch her yet.

“I should be getting inside,” said Danielle.

She curtsied to him, which made him seem uncomfortable, and she smiled.

“I wish you well in life,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

The prince shook his head. “I will always be indebted to you, my lady. Please take care.”

“I will.” 

Danielle spoke it like a promise. To him. To herself. To Gustave. Gustave who had already been waiting far too long for her to run back into his arms. She nodded to the prince once more and waved to him as he remounted his horse and set off with a gallop back to the castle where he belonged. Only when she turned around did she realize Gustave was already there, leaning against an apple tree with mild concern on his face. Danielle put her hands on her hips.

“How long have you been there?” she asked.

“Long enough to know you aren’t running away together,” he answered cheekily.

Gustave held out both hands, and Danielle took them.

“I’m glad that you seemed to have found resolution,” he said. “And some peace of mind.”

“I did,” said Danielle.

She looked at the tree branches, and his eyes followed hers.

“Before we go inside, want to do something from the old days?” she asked.

Less than a minute later, she and Gustave were sitting together on the thickest tree branch, watching the twilight blanket the countryside until they could only see the gold lantern dots. As kids, they had done this so often that Auguste de Barbarac always checked the tree first when calling Danielle for supper. The only thing that was different now, as adults, was the kissing. Neither of them complained about that.

When they pulled back for breath, Danielle said, “You’re a much better kisser than the prince.”

“Oh, get off it!” said Gustave with a snort.

“I’m serious!”

Gustave kissed her cheek. “Darling, I love you for trying to lie to me.”

“He used too much tongue,” said Danielle.

“Ugh, please let’s stop talking about this.” Danielle clearly wanted to press her point, so Gustave added, “You know, I thought about kissing you on this tree a very long time ago.”

Danielle perked up.

“When?” she asked.

“We were thirteen, maybe fourteen. You had twigs in your hair and I thought, ‘She’s so pretty I want to kiss her.’ Then I didn’t because I thought you’d knock me off the tree.”

Danielle laughed. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, but…”

“Exactly. I think it worked out anyway.”

“I’m glad it did,” said Danielle. “You’re my favorite person.”

She didn’t say it to be sentimental. She said it as pure fact.

“And you are mine, Danielle,” he said. “Always mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> You know what Gustave and Danielle’s midnight escape means? Danielle doesn’t have to deal with getting sold off to Pierre le Poo and no one ever has to see that gross man again. WIN.
> 
> Fun fact: Lee Ingleby who played Gustave… HE AGED LIKE THE FINEST OF WINES. Don’t believe me? Look at his IMDb headshot: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0408846/mediaviewer/rm889794560/
> 
> All I can say is that Danielle is a very lucky girl in this AU. Thanks a lot, Maddie. Now I will never feel the same watching Ever After.


End file.
